Epilogue

The five-year-olds racedthrough the backyard, screeching in delight.

“Not those flowers,” Olson cried, running after them. “Don’t pull the flowers!”

“It’s okay,” Emmy said, waving excitedly. “Flowers are meant to be pulled!”

Olson cringed. “Okay, you can pull the flowers, but only in Uncle Varrick and Uncle Emmy’s backyard. Nowhere else!”

Rex grinned, hugging Olson from the back to calm him down. “Let them pull flowers,” Rex whispered. “Varrick grew them for pulling.”

Olson sagged against him with a sigh. “I just don’t want them to think they can pull flowers everywhere.”

The twins joined Emmy and Varrick’s children, and all of them tumbled onto the grass in a fit of giggles. Olson sighed again, his resolve thinning when the children were so happy. “Well, you can tell them not to pull flowers when we’re elsewhere.”

“I will,” Rex said, kissing Olson’s ear.

Olson smiled and turned so their lips met.

Five years had flown by in the blink of an eye. There had been a lot of sleepless nights caring for teething and sick babies, but also nights where their parents stepped in to help, to give them breaks to catch up on sleep.

There had been first smiles, first teeth, first steps, and first words. The twins learning to walk, then run. Outgrowing all their clothes rapidly. Feeding themselves, going to kindergarten for the first time. Learning more and more words until they were talking nonstop.

Through it all, Rex had been by his side.

Olson remembered the times Rex had taken a screaming child off his arms so he could catch a break, Rex feeding Laura fever medicine, sharing his cookies with the twins, breaking up fights and warning them not to hurt each other again.

“You’re an amazing dad,” Olson said as they made their way over to the children, keeping an eye on them to make sure no one got hurt.

“You are more amazing,” Rex said.

Olson grinned. Rex was much more comfortable with his words now. It had taken him a while to get used to proper grammar, and he still preferred shorter sentences. But he could read and write; he could do simple math, and he knew how to be a civilized person.

These days, Rex cared for the twins while Olson worked. When the twins were at kindergarten, he helped to fix things around the house and Wine Shack. He did repair jobs for their friends, too. But mostly he was content to stick around where Olson was, to be near him; preferably within hearing distance. Scarcely an hour would pass before Rex returned to Olson to touch him in some way—a hand on his hip, his nose in Olson’s hair, his lips on Olson’s forehead.

Sometimes he pressed his teeth to the bonding marks on Olson’s body, and they reminisced about the times they bit each other.

“I’m glad you’re dads with me,” Olson said, his heart full.

Rex smiled, radiating joy. When Laura came racing up to them, he swung her into the air so she squealed. “How’s my Laura?” Rex rumbled.

“I got a flower for you!” She held out a pink poppy in her little fist. “Lemme put it in your hair!”

“My hair’s too short,” Rex said.

“You can tuck it behind his ear. Here, like this.” Olson guided the flower behind Rex’s ear, so it perched there when Laura released it. “See? A flower for Papa!”

“Thank you,” Rex said. Olson snapped a picture with his phone.

“You’re welcome!” Laura beamed. Then she turned abruptly and raced back to where Isaac was playing with their cousins. “Isaac! We need to get a flower for Daddy too!”

Rex puffed out his chest. “They’re good kids.”

“They are.” Olson leaned into his husband, cuddling up against him. “Want more?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Rex flashed his teeth, his gaze dark. “I’d put more in you.”

“I know some parents who’d be only too happy to take the twins off our hands for a few days,” Olson said dryly. “Nothing motivates them more than having more grandkids.”

Rex laughed, the sound filling Olson to the tips of his toes. He gathered Olson into a hug, his lips brushing Olson’s ear. “Next heat,” he whispered. “I’ll pin you down and make you scream. Show you how much I love you.”

Olson quivered in anticipation. “Please.”

Rex pressed his hand over Olson’s heart, and sealed his promise with a kiss.